


where the lovelight gleams

by reindeerjumper



Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: ...sorta, Canon Compliant, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, F/M, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-13
Updated: 2017-12-13
Packaged: 2019-02-14 05:03:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13000443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reindeerjumper/pseuds/reindeerjumper
Summary: “Thank you,” she said quietly. She popped another piece of broccoli in her mouth, chewing on it thoughtfully and refusing to make eye contact with Cormoran.“Don’t mention it,” he said.Robin took a few more bites of food before putting her fork down and taking a sip of wine.“You didn’t have to go through all this trouble…” She trailed off, pushing the fried rice on her plate around with her fork.“It’s no trouble, Robin,” Cormoran replied softly. He reached across the table in a moment of weakness and grabbed her hand. Squeezing it gently, he said, “You didn’t really think I’d let you spend Christmas alone, did you?”





	where the lovelight gleams

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lindmea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lindmea/gifts).



> for @LindMea's prompt, "You don’t have to go to all this trouble, you know” + “You didn’t really think I’d let you spend Christmas alone, did you?”

Cormoran stood in front of Robin’s building feeling incredibly awkward. In his hand was a bag of Chinese takeaway that he had picked up from her favorite place near the office, and it was making him feel self-conscious. A cold wind was cutting down her street, picking up some litter and leaves as it went.    
  
The front of her building was nondescript, just a red brick building with parallel lines of windows down the front. He had never been to her flat before. She had given him the address in case of an emergency, but he wasn’t privy to just popping in to hang out and watch television.    
  
He knew which flat was hers, though—it was the one with the yellow curtains in the window, all sunshine and warmth and things that made his stomach do a funny flip.    
  
Cormoran took a breath before letting himself into the lobby. There was a Christmas tree in the corner, sparsely decorated with a hodgepodge of ornaments that looked like they were from Sainsbury’s. There was a woman in the lobby, eyeing him suspiciously from a couch against the wall. She was on her phone, occasionally bringing her eyes up from the screen to glance at him.    
  
“Any chance you know which flat is Robin Ellacott’s?” he said to her. His voice was loud and echoing in the space of the lobby.    
  
The woman quirked an eyebrow at him. “The pretty redhead?” she said.    
  
Cormoran’s palm started to sweat at the word “pretty”.    
  
“Yeah, that’s the one,” he responded. “It’s more golden red than red, though.”   
  
“What?”   
  
“Her hair. It’s not really red. It’s like strawberry blonde.”   
  
The woman now looked at him with the ghost of a smirk on her lips. She looked back down at her phone, her eyes glittering in the light from the screen.    
  
Cormoran cleared his throat again before saying, “So, do you know where she lives?”   
  
“What’s it to you? It’s Christmas Eve. Don’t you have a family to get home to?”    
  
The woman clearly was going to make him work for the information, and part of him was thankful that Robin lived in a building where its residents looked out for each other. The other part of him was exasperated.     
  
Holding up the bag of takeaway, Cormoran said, “I’m her—“ Friend? Boss? Partner? “—friend,” he finished lamely.    
  
“Shouldn’t you know her flat number then?” the woman shot back.    
  
“Uh, I guess?” He rubbed the back of his neck with one of his massive hands. “Look, I promise I’m not some weirdo just here for a laugh. I’m her boss.” He took out his wallet and held out his ID. “Name is Cormoran. I’m just...I just was bringing Robin some takeaway.”    
  
The woman leaned forward and inspected the worn ID in his hand. Her eyes darted back and forth between the photo and his face, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. She leaned back onto the couch and steadied her gaze on him.    
  
“Fine. Any funny business and I call the cops. She’s in flat C, third floor.” She gestured towards a heavy metal door on the other side of the room.    
  
“Thank you,” Cormoran replied. He started to walk towards the door, but paused and turned around. “I didn’t catch your name?” he said with a slight lilt to his voice.    
  
“Astrid,” she responded. “I live next door.”   
  
Cormoran nodded in her direction. “Thanks, Astrid. Merry Christmas.”    
  
She gave him a small wave and then busied herself once again with her phone.    
  
Cormoran turned towards the metal door and started to walk towards it. He opened the door and looked up the narrow, steep staircase. Closing his eyes, Cormoran groaned at the thought of scaling the stairs.    
  
“I need to give her a raise,” he muttered to himself, thoughts of buildings with lifts coming to mind.    
  
With begrudging fortitude, Cormoran started to climb the stairs, one hand on the railing and the other holding the takeaway bag. By the second landing, his prosthetic was aching. By the third landing, his was sweating slightly and swearing the kebabs he’d been indulging in.    
  
The hallway where Robin’s flat resided was long and narrow. Some doors had Christmas wreaths hanging from them, some had lights strung around the entryways, and one, in the far distance, had a lit menorah twinkling underneath the peep hole.    
  
Each door had a golden number tacked to the front, and Cormoran made his way down the hall until he reached flat C. Robin had hung a festive wreath right in the middle of the door—it was pine with sparkling frosted branches on it, and a big, crimson bow was hanging from the bottom. The sight of it made Cormoran smile.    
  
With a quick rap of his knuckles, Cormoran made his presence known. He could hear some movement on the other side, which immediately made his palms sweat. He felt awkward standing there, unannounced and unexpected.    
  
The door flung open, and Robin stood in the doorway. She was wearing an oversized jumper with a stretched out neck, her collarbone peeking out from underneath. Her golden hair was pulled up into a sloppy ponytail, soft tendrils framing her face, which had a beautiful flush across her cheeks. Cormoran allowed himself a quick glance down, clearing his throat as he did so. He could see she was wearing a pair of black leggings, and slippers that looked like an entire herd of sheep had been sheared for just one pair.    
  
“Cormoran, hey,” she said. Her eyes were wide and there was a slight gape to her mouth, begging to be kissed.    
  
“Hey,” he said. “Is this a bad time?”   
  
Robin shook her head as she stood to the side, holding an arm out to welcome him in.    
  
“No, not at all. Astrid actually texted me and said you were on your way up.”   
  
Cormoran blushed as she said this, cursing the rapidity that women corresponded. He shuffled his way past Robin, attempting to make himself seem smaller to avoid brushing his chest against hers. His attempt was futile, and as he made his way past her, he caught a whiff of her powdery perfume.    
  
He now stood in her living room, holding the takeaway in one hand and his other hand in his pocket, nervously fingering the keys that sat there. Making a quick sweep of the flat, Cormoran saw that it was very tiny, but incredibly cozy.    
  
There was a worn looking couch against one of the walls, and on the coffee table in front of it sat a laptop, a tray with a mug of tea and some Christmas cookies, and a lit candle that smelled suspiciously like pine. Next to the couch was a wee Christmas tree, all decked out in baubles and lights with an angel on top that looked homemade. He turned to look behind him and saw two doors—he assumed the bedroom and the bathroom—and a roll top desk. On the wall directly across from him was an opening that peeked into a tiny kitchenette. A small table on the outside of the opening housed a poinsettia plant and a stack of mail.    
  
“Is everything okay?” he heard Robin say behind him as she shut the door. “Wasn’t expecting to see you today...don’t you have plans with Lucy, or Nick and Ilsa?”   
  
Cormoran turned towards her and smiled. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m not big on Christmas. I’ll probably go to Lucy’s tomorrow to see the family, but Christmas Eve is usually pretty quiet.” He switched the takeaway bag from one hand to the other.    
  
He saw Robin’s gaze dip down to the bag and then back up to his face. She was inquiring about it without words, and Cormoran decided to fill the silence.

“I brought Chinese,” he said. He held the bag up between them, his expression somewhere between pained and awkward. 

“How very  _ A Christmas Story _ of you,” Robin said, smiling. She brushed past him towards the kitchen, and without looking over her shoulder, she called out, “Bring it in here. I’ll get plates.”

Cormoran put the bag on the coffee table before shrugging out of his overcoat. He hung it on the back of one of the chairs at the tiny dining table, and then unwrapped the scarf that was around his neck. Stuffing the scarf into the sleeve of his coat, he allowed himself a quick glance into the kitchen where Robin was clattering about.

She was up on her tiptoes, rummaging around in a cabinet for what seemed to be plates. He couldn’t help looking at the way the muscles in her legs flexed as she reached a bit higher, and he had to look away to keep the embarrassed flush on his cheeks at bay. He grabbed the takeaway bag and brought it into the kitchen, placing it on the small countertop before leaning his back against it. 

Robin had laid two plates out on the counter, and was now bent over in front of the refrigerator. He could hear her mumbling to herself, and he smiled. Rolling his head towards the ceiling, he tried to occupy himself with counting the peaks of plaster that were scattered along its length. He soon heard her exclaim, “Ah-ha!” before turning around triumphantly with a bottle of white wine in her hand.

“I know it’s not your favorite, but it’s all I have,” she said, coming to stand next to him before opening another cabinet. He watched her go up on her tiptoes again, reaching for two wine glasses that were all the way at the top. 

“Let me,” he said. He leaned over her, the front of his body pressing against the back of hers. He heard her take a sharp breath and hold it, and he did the same. With a quick movement, Cormoran snatched both wine glasses from the shelf and brought them down gently. He took a step back, allowing space between the two of them to grow, and he finally let his breath out. 

“Thanks,” Robin said softly. She took the glasses from him, holding his gaze and smiling at him before turning back towards the counter. She busied herself with the takeaway bag as she said, “Forks and spoons and stuff are in that drawer over there. Grab a few?”

Cormoran opened the drawer and extracted a few utensils, placing them on the counter next to the growing number of Chinese food containers. Robin opened each container and looked into each, pleased little sounds leaving her mouth each time. Cormoran couldn’t help the swell of pride that rolled through his chest at the fact that he had gotten the order right. 

After dishing out their food onto plates and pouring two glasses of wine, Robin led the way back into the living room. She sat at the table across from where Cormoran’s jacket sat, crossing her legs and picking up her fork. Cormoran watched as she tucked into the food, unable to keep the smile off of his lips at her enthusiasm. He pulled the opposite chair out and sat down with a huff. 

They ate in silence for a few moments before Robin spoke up.

“Thank you,” she said quietly. She popped another piece of broccoli in her mouth, chewing on it thoughtfully and refusing to make eye contact with Cormoran.

“Don’t mention it,” he said. 

Robin took a few more bites of food before putting her fork down and taking a sip of wine. 

“You didn’t have to go through all this trouble…” She trailed off, pushing the fried rice on her plate around with her fork.

“It’s no trouble, Robin,” Cormoran replied softly. He reached across the table in a moment of weakness and grabbed her hand. Squeezing it gently, he said, “You didn’t really think I’d let you spend Christmas alone, did you?”

Robin now looked up at him, tears in her eyes but a watery smile on her lips. She swiped angrily at her eyes before looking at the ceiling while she took a deep breath. 

“Sorry, sorry,” she muttered, bringing her gaze back down to look at Cormoran. “I just...I’ve never had a Christmas like this. Matthew had booked those tickets to Barbados months in advance, so my parents booked a holiday to France, and then, you know, the whole mess between Matthew and I happened, but my parents couldn’t just  _ cancel _ their trip.” She was rambling now, fueled by wine and anger. “I insisted they go--they were going to cancel so they could spend the holiday with me--but how bloody pathetic would that be? ‘Mum, Dad, I know I left my fiance at the altar, and it’s been months since we split, but is there anyway you can stay home for the holidays so I don’t feel so bloody foolish?’”

Cormoran just sat there, listening to her rant and mentally scrambling for something to say. 

“I should be in Masham right now, sitting by my parents’ fireplace with Rowntree on my feet while I sip mulled wine. Instead I’m in my flat on Christmas Eve, eating Chinese takeaway and feeling sorry for myself.” 

As the last sentence fell from her lips, Cormoran felt a small pang of guilt. 

“This is all my fault,” he said. “You’d be doing all of that right now if I hadn’t mucked the whole thing up. I’m sorry I ruined your wedding, and your holidays, and well, you know...all of it.” He looked down at his hands that were now clasped on the table by his plate.

“Oh, God, Cormoran! I didn’t mean it like that!” Cormoran looked up to see Robin looking frantic. “Please, don’t apologize! It was the best gift you could have ever given me!” 

“Wha-?” 

“Cormoran, you ruining my wedding was exactly what I wanted.” She stopped. Cormoran noticed her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were glittering. He wanted to lean across the table and kiss her. “I’m not upset about not getting married. Please, don’t think that. I’m thrilled about it, in all honesty.” 

Not wanting to press his luck, Cormoran said, “Still, though, it’s still my fault that you’re not in Masham with ol’ Rowntree. I do feel a bit guilty about that.”

“You should,” she quipped. He looked at her, and she was now grinning at him from across the table. “More wine. And a movie.” She pushed away from the table and swept up their plates, disappearing behind him and into the kitchenette. Cormoran sat at the table, unsure of what to do. The past ten minutes were a total and complete rollercoaster, and he wasn’t sure if the ride was over.

Robin reappeared with the bottle of wine in her hand. She headed towards the couch as she said, “Grab the glasses.” 

Taking her cue, Cormoran grabbed both glasses by the stem and followed her over to the couch. Robin had settled herself onto a cushion, pulling a blanket over her legs. Cormoran awkwardly sat next to her, placing the glasses on the table and topping them off. He handed Robin hers before leaning back against the cushion next to her.

Tilting her glass towards him, she said, “I propose a toast.” Cormoran glanced at her, unable to keep the smirk off of his face. “To good friends, and shitty partners, and untraditional holidays. Thankful for the first, thankful the second is gone, and thankful that I get to experience the third with you.” She clinked her glass against his and took a long sip.

Cormoran, the whole time she had been speaking, was staring at her with silent admiration. How this beautiful, smart woman, who had suffered through so much but still braved it all with a smile on her face, came into his life was beyond him. Blinking, he took a sip of his own wine, before adding to her toast.

“I’d like to tack on something,” he said. He looked her in the eyes, his wine glass hovering awkwardly between them. She smiled softly at him, and he felt his heart rate quicken. “I’d like to propose a toast to you,” he continued. Robin’s face fell a bit, her mouth once again opening into the adorable gape that he had wanted to kiss when he walked through her door. “To Robin Ellacott, for strong arming her way into my life and my business, and making both so much better than they’ve ever been.” 

There was a beat before he tilted his wine glass in her direction. Without a word, she tapped the rim of her glass against his before taking a gulp of wine. An attractive flush had crept up her neck and settled on the apples of her cheeks, and she was smiling at him over the rim of her glass. 

“You mean it?” she eventually said. 

“‘Course I do,” he replied, taking another sip of wine. He grimaced before placing it onto the coffee table. “I’m a man of my word.” Cormoran leaned back on the cushions, stretching out his legs in front of him and resting his arm along the back of the couch. He let out a sigh of contentment.

Robin, holding her wine glass with two hands, looked at him with a smile. She leaned forward to place her wine glass on the table, and then turned towards her laptop, which still sat open on the coffee table. Over her shoulder, Cormoran saw that she had Netflix up. She had been watching an episode of  _ Parks and Recreation _ , and Cormoran found it far cuter than he probably should have. She quickly clicked out of the screen, then looked back towards him.

“Christmas movie or murder movie?” she said. 

“Oh, murder movie, hands down,” he replied.

“Good.” She turned back around and he watched her type “Seven” into the search bar. After a click here and a click there, the movie started to play on the screen. Robin centered the laptop on the coffee table before settling back on the cushions next to Cormoran. 

She was just a smidgen closer to him than she had started out, and he was acutely aware of the change in proximity. She shifted again, nudging a bit closer, until her hair was alarmingly close to his face and her arm was pressed against his chest. As if by instinct or muscle memory, Cormoran let his arm drop, coming to rest along her shoulders. He felt Robin sigh against him, her wine glass still clasped in her hands as her eyes stayed trained on the laptop in front of them.

It was unsettling, how normal and comfortable it felt to have her slotted against him like this, as if they’d been doing it for years. He could smell her perfume and it was impossible to not occasionally sweep his thumb back and forth along her arm, feeling the push and pull of the fabric of her jumper underneath the pad of his finger. It wasn’t long before their breathing evened out, and Robin’s head lolled ever-so-slightly onto his shoulder.

“Thanks again, Cormoran,” she murmured. 

“Don’t mention it,” he replied.


End file.
